Odi et Amo: The Black Canvas
by XxxChansalarxxX
Summary: While attending her second year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, Taylor uncovers secrets about her family, while simultaneously building a relationship with the chaos-seeking Marauders.
1. Chapter 1: Because of a Boggart

Disclaimer/Author's Note: This story is a fully edited and refurbished version of my old FanFiction, _Seriously Sirius_. I am taking a great deal of time to put more details into the plot and edit the obnoxious grammar mistakes. This installment will focus on the Marauder's second year at Hogwarts, but as a brief introductory I have tried to add a recap in the first chapter. If you haven't read the first,and like to do so, copy the link: s/9385128/1/Odi-et-Amo-The-Necromancer-s-Psychomanteum or check out my home profile). As a disclaimer, I would like to state: I do not own the Harry Potter series, and I will never match up to J.K. Rowling's originality. With that, I have taken a degree of creative license with the characters and the original storyline (as some die-hard fans may notice). While much remains true to the series, there will be several purposeful changes. Thank you for your support and please no flames.

Chapter One:

Droplets of vermillion red paint sprinkled downward onto the shagged carpet. The dollops glittered internally with mysterious movement. Shapes melded between scarlet and gold, struggling to maintain their identity.

"Watch the brush. Remus, you're getting paint all over my floor."

Taylor's brother glanced at the mess apologetically. The siblings sat cross-legged on the ground amidst craft supplies. Aluminum paint cans, hog's hair brushes, and strips of poster board. On the nearby dresser laid the inspiration for Remus's recent artistic endeavor: the mandatory supply list from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for all second year students.

"Blast it. I really need to refine my artistic abilities." To illustrate his statement, Remus brandished the paintbrush through the air sending a vibrant spray of color across the room. Exasperated, Taylor pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Is a flashy Gryffindor banner even necessary?"

The young girl scrutinized the fresh stains on her bedroom floor. Growing up for years in a muggle orphanage had conditioned her to avoid sloppy crafts, especially permanent paints. Caning or endless hours of scrubbing were often the unpleasant after effects of creative splatter.

"I have school spirit! Besides, do we _need_ an excuse to use magical paint?" Excitedly, Remus held up his homemade pennant. Blotchy golden lions flashed in the crimson background.

The enthusiasm in his voice urged the smile back onto Taylor's face. Notwithstanding the momentary annoyances, her foster family had become an integral part of her life. Memory harbored images of her haggard biological father, but the Lupins dulled the occasional ache left by abandonment. Despite nearly six years of separation, Taylor stubbornly refused to surrender the promises of paternal reunion. Summer in the Lupin household, therefore, was both peaceful and revitalizing after the course of life's unsatisfactory events.

In the aftermath of the previous academic year, Taylor and Remus spent a majority of their afternoons visiting the library, lazing in the park under evergreens, or barricaded in the townhouse. The mere fact they were wizards, fresh from their first year at Hogwarts, still seemed like a fantasy projected from the many books the pair devoured. A relatively whimsical year of learning magic had twisted into a severely disconcerting muddle of adventure, leaving questions unanswered and suspicions heightened. Damien Greer, formerly the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, used the forbidden art of necromancy to locate the mysterious Faberge's egg, only to be devoured by hellhounds summoned by the elderly general store manager, Colby Katsinsky.

Taylor was expected to explain the story in various and, reluctantly, she obliged. In order to protect the innocent, she consistently censored her version of events. Fellow students, Sirius Black and Fionn Wilkes, also witnessed the happenings from similar perspectives, but it was Taylor who fell from the escape, accidentally stabbing their pursuer through the chest with her wand. Equally, it was the first year Slytherin who decoded the whereabouts of Fabergé's egg by means of a dream; though these experiences were shared with the headmaster Albus Dumbledore and his advocates only. Taylor chose to remain mute on the topic and in many conversations sheltered the truth from full exposure.

The warm summer air suppressed any desire for further adventure. Subterranean tunnels, corpses, and nightmares were rarely revisited. Surprisingly, though, Taylor missed the school and often reminisced with Remus about Quidditch matches and magically filled banquets. In good taste, the pair speculated about the possibilities of a new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. Less morbidly, they missed the castle grounds, classes, and more importantly their friends.

Walking by the open doorway, Lyall Lupin fixed his yellow tie and peered inside.

"Do be careful with the magical paint Remus. Now, some see your mother and me out, will you?"

Taylor wrestled the paintbrush away from Remus playfully. She hurried out after the patriarch chased by the wrathful artist. Their mother, Hope, dusted off the squared shoulders of her husband tenderly.

"A reservation for dinner at Restaurant Boulestin. I feel so honored." Hope kissed the blushing man on the cheek.

Taylor closed her eyes to picture the scene. _Modern Parisian in decoration, luxurious with plush wine colored carpets and curtains patterned in yellow brocade. Eventually, the couple would digest over conversation in the lounge portion, decorated by a square of hanging silk balloon lights. A prominent bottle of 1903 liqueur brandy de la maison shared between them, a graceful reminder of their younger years together. A marvelous celebration for an anniversary—_ Lyall's voice broke through her imagination.

"You deserve nothing less than perfection tonight, my dear." The man looked at her with adoration. "Since the first time I met you—"

Intrigued, Taylor piped up. "How did you two meet?" Remus scoffed, hands deeply pressed into his pockets. Their son was more excited for a night without his parents, than her was listening to tender romance.

"Heavens! At the time, I was living in Wales and working for an insurance company. After a particularly stressful day at the office, all I wanted to do was enjoy some fresh air." Hope hovered near the front door, barring Lyall from exiting in embarrassment. "There was a reserve nearby, so I took to walking. Somewhere down the trail, I got turned around. Then, without cause this rugged vagabond burst from the underbrush toward me." She clutched her heart for effect, but smiled sheepishly. "I had never been so frightened in all my life. Frozen like a doe in headlights! Of course, this is where your father showed up to save the day."

"I had been conducting an expedition in the area. My objective was to document and catalog the indigenous Non-Human Spirituous Apparitions of Wales. Some reports had led me to believe that a particularly nasty boggart resided in the Long Wood Reserve."

"Boggart?" Taylor interjected with interest. Remus, who had evidently heard the tale innumerable times, nudged his sister in the ribs. A failed attempt to quell the curiosity.

A gleam of fascination twinkled in Lyall's eyes. Adventures and expeditions from the past shimmered in the shadow of his yesteryears. "Essentially, a boggart is a shape-shifting, non-being that takes on the form of its viewer's worst fear."

Taylor tried with difficultly to imagine a boggart. _An authentic boogeyman. While the other children were busy fearing the tales of Old Bloody-Bones who lived in the cupboard under the stairs, I was preoccupied with the works of Robert Louis Stevenson. Supposedly, Daniel Babio peeped through a crack for a glimpse of the dreadful, crouching creature. Before settling into bed, he generously supplied us the gruesome details: Blood running down his face, the orphanage's boogeyman perched upon a pile of raw bones which belonged to children who told lies or cursed. There was never any proof though, monsters aren't—_

Instantly, she regretted the vibrancy of her imagination. The leathery humanoid corpse, faceless except for a neatly pursed mouth reclined upon a living armchair. Broken insectival wings slumped asymmetrically, down to the floor. Hope continued the story to break the monotony of Lyall's work life and distract her children from boogeymen.

"Your father heard my screams and rushed to my aid like a white knight."

Her husband blushed. "I turned the man chasing her into a field mushroom with a wave of my wand. Simple defense really. I escorted her home, wishing to ensure her safety. It took me months to finally confess that the boggart had never posed any real danger."

"You are still my hero. It was a risk for you to expose your magic to help a frightened muggle woman, but you did so anyway." Hope smiled at him.

"And I would repeat that decision infinitely over." In the background, Remus swallowed imaginary vomit, as his parents cooed at one another lovingly. Even Taylor, who once indulged in a saucy romance novel, began to feel slightly uncomfortable as a bystander. The two children ushered the couple through the door and to their automobile. The lovebirds flew from the nest, leaving the chicks to wander aimlessly in the yard for a moment, before returning to the safety of the living room. Ever since Remus was attacked by a lycanthrope, Lyall and Hope rarely left the siblings alone for extended periods of time. His condition was, in some cases, unpredictable. A week prior, Remus had suffered through his monthly transformation, but recovered speedily in time for the couple's anniversary. They took advantage of the opportunity with hesitation, after gentle coaxing from their wards.

Without direction, Taylor circled the room several times. _Alone and unsupervised, yet nothing worth doing._ She considered writing to her friends. Loyal to their promises, her companions had scribed regularly with tidbits about their lives and desires about the upcoming year. The most recent letter from Fionn, which she practically memorized, hummed in her mind, waiting for reply.

_Taylor,_

_Summer still seems to be progressing at a terribly slow pace. I have recently adopted some curious herbs and magical plants, with the hope of investing the remaining free-time into something productive. Compared to Hogwarts, my house feels like a bastille. Hopefully, you are faring better. _

_Patiently awaiting further correspondence,_

_Wilkes_

Despite his occasional cold and calculated disposition, Fionn Wilkes was one of Taylor's best friends from Hogwarts. Consequently, he was the only companion Taylor had from Slytherin. Though their differences often landed them in heated arguments, there was little one would not do for the other. Even when Taylor discovered Fionn had practiced necromancy with Professor Greer, she kept the knowledge quiet from the headmaster. While Fionn and Taylor developed their friendship in unconventional ways, she was not as congenial with other Slytherins. The other students from her house usually formed elite fraternal cliques forged in pureblood. Taylor was not, however, socially stunted by the internal alienation.

Almost daily, she received letters by muggle post from the quick-witted, fiery Gryffindor Lily Evans. Despite the historical animosity between their houses, the pair were inseparable. They partnered in classes, held private study sessions, and explored the outer perimeters of the castle together. Lily too had written to Taylor and waited patiently for response.

_Dear Taylor,_

_My day instantly becomes wonderful, whenever I see your letter in the mail! Having a pen pal is thrilling business really. I met up with Severus just the other day. He was ever so apologetic about the way he has been acting. You can expect to see us three to cause plenty of trouble together next semester. Nothing intense though. We wouldn't want reputations, like certain other unmentionables. Please write soon! Miss you._

_Your friend,_

_Lily _

Though she had little to say, Taylor settled on forwarding polite replies. "I need to write back to Lily and Fionn. If you need me, I'll be upstairs—"

"Shoot. That reminds me. There is a letter in the kitchen for you. Sorry, I meant to tell you earlier. I forget about the muggle post most days." As if to lighten the mood, Remus stretched his legs across the couch and scratched his chin.

Taylor folded her arms in protest. "Thanks. You're something helpful."

"You're welcome." Remus grinned cheerfully. She left her brother and moved into the kitchen. Robert F. Scott stared unblinkingly up from the stamp on Lily's letter. The British polar explorer frozen in time by the Royal Mail. Taylor reached for the drawer concealing the letter opener, when a rustle near the window startled her. _A boggart?!_

An owl fluttered against the windowpane. _An owl, blimey—nearly gave me a heart attack._ Against the nocturnal backdrop, the jet-black bird was difficult to see; only the bird's florescent yellow eyes were discernable. Flipping the latch open, Taylor opened the window and allowed the owl to drop a letter attached to a small, brown papered parcel on the sill. After a proud coo, the bird departed.

"Oi, there's a package for you! From James— what's Potter sending you? Now I'm nervous." Taylor shook the package lightly, an ear cocked for malevolent reverberations. "I should withhold this for further inspection." She entered the living room to deliver the bundle.

"Who are you, the new Postmaster General?" Remus scoffed and held out his hands expectantly.

"At least I let you know when your mail arrives."

"Clever. Toss over the parcel." Obliging her brother's request, Taylor pitched the small package toward his open palms. Once situated, Remus pulled at the strings. The knots binding the letter to the bundle loosened, permitting to the contents within to roll onto the couch. A wrinkled, mauve fig settled next to an astounded Remus. "James's promised to send me a shrivelfig from his mother's garden—I'm actually surprised he remembered. Not quite Abyssinian, but fascinating nonetheless. After writing the summer essay about it, I expected something grander." The faint odor of lavender wafted charmingly from the ripe fruit.

James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew and her brother were inseparable. All from Gryffindor, the group paraded around the school scouting for ways to cause mischief. Sirius and James were ringleaders of misconduct, stirring up a circus of chaos for teachers and Slytherins alike. Their pompous attitudes and imposing presences annoyed Taylor, but circumstance allowed an alliance to form between them. A black sheep in her Slytherin house, Taylor carefully treaded the finer lines of blood traitor.

A smile twitched across Taylor's face as she attended to the neatly adorned letter on the kitchen counter. Soundlessly, she left Remus in the sitting room, alone to inspect the shrivelfig and the attached notelet in privacy. Upon entrance into her room, the dry splotches of bewitched paint began to flicker in a hospitable frenzy. On the comfort of her mattress, Taylor delved into the envelope:

_Taylor,_

_My supply list came in! I'll be in Diagon Alley on the twentieth. If you happen to be there, meet Severus and I outside Sugarplum's Sweet Shop. Noon. I cannot wait to catch up in person._

_Your friend, _

_Lily_

Excitement, at the thought of reunion, pooled in Taylor's abdomen, stirring the eagerness and anticipation for the forthcoming academic year. Patiently waiting for owls to carry the correspondence had become cumbersome, an inconvenience which was easily averted when the students returned to Hogwarts. Conversations were only a stair climb away or tabletops apart. Secretly, she even desired the occasional heated interaction with Gryffindors like James Potter or Sirius Black. With a smile, Taylor folded Lily's letter and tucked it neatly into her tattered nightstand edition of _A History of Magic_.


	2. Chapter 2: Helena Lovecraft

Chapter Two

A faint rain showered persistently down upon the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley. Despite the weather, hundreds of wizarding consumers flooded the strip. They shielded themselves with enchanted color-changing umbrellas and circumnavigated broad puddles, filled with determination to complete their afternoon tasks. Students and parents bustled between stores, collecting textbooks, cauldrons, and potions' ingredients. Few visitors, however, were brave enough to traverse the steaming side-streets, like Knockturn Alley.

A majority of shops lining the crooked backstreet were wholly devoted to the Dark Arts. The storefront windows were all tinted, concealing the diversity of the mystical treasures within. An uninvited murder of crows, perched eagerly on the crumbling chimneys above, waiting patiently for the next meal. Nestled in the center of the alley, between Moribund's Mortuary and Deceased Beasts Supply, coiled the dignified Spiny Serpent Lounge. Long, violet stained window panels checkered the ancient building. Only the magical community's uppermost elite were admitted through the stately, wooden front door.

Inside, protected from the unexpected summer downpour, two estranged brothers settled into their family's private suite. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black was one of the largest, oldest and wealthiest pureblooded wizarding families in Britain, though only direct descendants held access to the exclusive comforts of the Spiny Serpent. Unsupervised, the older sibling, Regulus, exercised his birth right to enjoy the hedonistic revelries; the younger of the pair, however, rejected the familial frivolities and yearned to leave the suite's suffocating confines.

Settled near the second story window, Regulus squinted through the glass at a pair of soggy peddlers disputing territorial boundaries. Wispy dark hair shadowed his hauntingly grey eyes and high cheek bones.

"You'd think the wizarding businesses would shield their guests with a Weather-Modifying Charm. Isn't there any regard for the comfort of the consumer?"

"Do you intentionally try to sound like mother?" Trying to stifle a yawn, Sirius entertained himself by plucking a head off a soft fuchsia Snake Mouth Orchid. Unenthusiastically, the young boy lounged sideways on the establishment's antique bergère; he draped his legs across the chair's arm. Feathered black hair fell into his silver gray eyes, which emptied into unpredictable depths. "A little rain never killed anyone. It isn't a monsoon."

"Clever Sirius, whatever would I do without your input?" Effortlessly, Regulus spared a fleeting glance toward his brother before retrieving a steaming cup of tea from an end table. Gold liquid lapped against shores of porcelain. Subtle hints of chestnut combined with the overpowering aroma of honeysuckle wafted generously through the air. "Don't waste the tea. The few grams alone cost us 40 galleons."

Extravagant taste never appealed to Sirius. He shook his head in disgust. "I suspect you used all of my school money to pay for this then?"

"Nothing gets passed you." Regulus sat down on the plush loveseat and closed his eyes. He could not hold back the smirk on his face. "Mother cannot possibly trust you to hold onto your own money."

"How am I supposed to buy my books now?" Sirius growled. The boy turned from his original convenient position to have both feet on the floorboards.

Eyes still closed in relaxation, Regulus shrugged. "You have that street rat mentality, maybe some poverty will suit your self-righteous struggle."

Anger simmered in Sirius's stomach. Without pause, he grabbed the small cup and poured the scalding contents into Regulus's lap. Reflexively, the victim thrashed from his seat with a scream of surprise. Before he could fully recover, however, Sirius grabbed his pea coat and escaped into the rainfall. Pneumonia was far less risky than confronting a wrathful brother with second degree burns on the groin. Careful to avoid eye contact with the alley's impoverished population, Sirius wandered towards the safety of Diagon Alley.

Internally, he debated on whether or not to return to Grimmauld Place that evening. Without money his choice of renting a room at the Leaky Cauldron Pub and Inn was impractical. Given his age, the proprietor would not even consider bartering a stay in exchange for free labor. Lost in preparation, Sirius knocked shoulders with a stranger heading the opposite direction. A grumble was the only apology the Gryffindor boy was willing to offer. The recipient, seemingly unperturbed by the contact, remained silent and continued passed. Sirius glanced behind him, long enough to make out the familiar crop of copper hair belonging to Fionn Wilkes. An older gentleman, who accompanied the second-year Slytherin, turned momentarily to scrutinize the unattended vagrant child. Reluctant to draw attention to himself, Sirius picked up the pace and scrambled into Diagon Alley.

"Father and son bonding over the Dark Arts? Cute. If only I had a family like that." Sirius muttered sarcastically to no one in particular.

Keeping to his original schedule, Sirius retired to the Leaky Cauldron for his eleven-thirty appointment. Once inside, the boy claimed a shadowy corner table with a clear view of the front door. He was early, but he did not mind the company of drunken strangers. Their inebriated stupors lulled Sirius into a warm, satisfaction— Regulus would brood uselessly over spilt tea, while he enjoyed his ephemeral freedom. His jacket on the back of the chair was nearly dry by the time James Potter entered the wizarding establishment. Camouflaged by an impervious, hooded trench coat, Sirius barely recognized his friend's arrival.

"Where have you been mate? For a moment, I thought you were going to stand me up." Sirius stood to greet James, who threw his hands up in defense.

"Have a little faith, would you? I just had some trouble getting away from my mum." He smiled, pulled a chair from the table, and straddled it nonchalantly. "She wanted to be sure we had everything on the supply list before I met up with friends. We had some issues with the book list."

A thunder of excitement jolted Sirius into a laugh. Months of physical solitude were melting away. Hogwarts was closer than it was just moments ago.

"I'd ask to trade families, but that wouldn't be fair to you."

James noted the strain in his friend's tone. "Not even if I were deaf and blind. Everything alright?"

"Perfectly ace." Unconvinced, James leaned forward against the back of the chair. "I may have— intentionally— drenched Regulus with pricey hot tea. No regrets though. Hearing him squeal was worth it."

"Bloody hell, mate. Living the troublemaker's dream. But really? You had to go and piss off the guy who is one card short of a full deck. He will return the favor while you're sleeping." James shook his head in exasperation. "This is an easy fix. You can stay with me."

Asking for help had not occurred to Sirius. Relying on others was not part of his nature. Before he could protest, James threw a barricade up with his hands.

"I insist. It's only a week. We have plenty of room and I can even help you collect your stuff from your home. We can get out of public view."

"My God! You're ashamed of our relationship. Want to hide me away from the world?" Sirius clasped his chest dramatically in faux hysterics.

"We need privacy to charm the map, you twit." James smirked. "You did bring it?"

Sirius grinned devilishly.

* * *

Weighed down with sodden cloaks and tightly wrapped textbooks, Taylor and Remus zigzagged between the dampened customers of Diagon Alley. A wild goose chase turned into a snipe hunt. Their standard second year book list contained a series of peculiar titles, including _The Pnakotic Manuscripts_, _The Dhol Chants_, and _Al Azif_. The clerks from Flourish and Blotts retained no record of the works in question, though assured the students the matter would be resolved before the start-of-term.

Unable to complete their scavenger hunt, the siblings meandered their way toward the white marbled steps of Gringotts Wizarding Bank. The building towered ominously over the neighboring shops and businesses. Beyond the impenetrable walls resided the precious valuables of wizards and witches across the European continent. In order to gain a clearer perspective of the street, Taylor climbed the whitewashed stairs.

"Wasn't Sugarplum's right next to Gringotts? Do you see it anywhere?" Taylor adjusted the hood of her rain jacket, allowing the beads of precipitation to roll off. She scanned the bustling street in hopes of glimpsing a recognizable face or storefront. The rain distorted all familiarity.

"No, though I expected we'd run into this sort of confusion." Remus replied. Rain ricocheted off his water resistant, crimson and gold umbrella.

Taylor tiptoed eagerly above the heads of passersby, causing the coins she had left to jingle in her pocket. "You brought a map then?"

"In retrospect, that would have been wise." Remus shook his head and chuckled. "We should ask for directions."

_Directions. If we keep walking, we may end up where we were headed. Or… _Taking a deep breath, Taylor chose to heed her brother's advice. Nearby, a young adult witch and goblin stood sheltered beneath the bank's grandiose frontal eave. _Safe bet. _

"Excuse me." Taylor interrupted. In unison, the witch and goblin looked up. "Would you happen to know where Sugarplum's Sweets Shop is?"

The witch's cinnamon brown eyes lingered for a moment before turning to the stout goblin at her side. Quietly, she motioned to the children and uttered a series of unintelligible words. Wavy, black hair tussled about her shoulders with the gesture. The goblin shook his head and pointed down the bustling street, rasping a jumble of distinctly inhuman language.

"Mr. Bogrod is not entirely sure, though he believes that your shop may be down this way. If you don't mind, I'll be heading that way myself. Perhaps a set of extra eyes can help you find your shop and make up for my rough Gobbledegook." The witch explained sweetly. Her speech was delicately curved with an unmistakable accent: American English. The woman returned her attention back to the goblin, "Thank you for delivering it all the way. I can't express how truly helpful everyone has been since I arrived."

The goblin nodded cordially and, without any additional comments, returned to the inner sanctums of Gringotts. Taylor studied the foreigner curiously from her peripherals as they set out in search for their rendezvous point.

"Gobbledegook?" Taylor was sure she had misheard the woman, between the splash and whirling winds.

"The native language of the goblins." She clarified.

"Oh. Well, thank you for your help. We appreciate this." Taylor admitted. Finding Lily suddenly became less urgent in the presence of the intriguing, new arrival. The witch withdrew her wand, pointed it toward the sky and mumbled_ Conopaeum. _An invisible canopy protected the travelers from the summer shower as they traverse the puddle-flooded alley.

"No problem at all. Helena Lovecraft by the way. It's nice to meet the both of you." She returned her wand to a pocket within her lilac cloak.

"I'm Remus Lupin and this is my sister, Taylor. Are you visiting London for business?" Remus pulled his useless umbrella closed. Instead, he used it to mindlessly tap the cobblestones beneath their passing feet.

"Indeed. I've taken up a vacant position at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry." Taylor tripped over her own curiosity and although she managed to keep in step, she slowed her pace to match their guest's. "I expect the two of you are students?"

"We are! Second years—" Remus began.

"Are you filling in as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Taylor asked intrigued. Remus rolled his eyes at his sister's conversational etiquette.

"Yes." Lovecraft laughed in amusement, their eagerness encouraged her into explanation. "It's unfortunate about what happened to Professor Greer. I heard he was an intelligent professor and I am sure he prepared you all well for the upcoming year."

_Professor Greer, frightening, yet brilliant— Taught us some things I am not sure I was ready for. _Comparing the new professor to Greer forced Taylor to view the woman in a new way. She seemed so young, beautiful, and polite in contrast to the wild man who taught their first year defense lessons. When Taylor remained quiet, Remus proceeded to regain control of the discussion.

"We know the basics."

_Smokescreen spells, Lumos, ways to humiliate an opponent or scare thieves. Killing necromancers. I'd say we definitely learned the basics. _

"Though if you don't mind my asking, ma'am, the texts for your class aren't available in any of the bookstores. Where can we find them?" Remus noticed the sobering look on Taylor's face. A new defense teacher reconfirmed the violent events from the year before.

"I meant to let the school know. The texts aren't easily purchased, so I am having them imported. By our first class, we should have copies for everyone."

"Imported from where?" Remus inquired thoughtfully.

Lovecraft paused before responding. "Mostly from Lebanon." She pointed to a sign above them: Sugarplum's Sweets Shop. "It seems we've made it to your location. I look forward to the academic year and expect to see you two in the very near future."

Although Taylor and Remus both boiled with questions, they held back their enthusiasm. They bid her safe travels before slipping into the brightly lit sweets shop. The scent of spicy cardamom and honeyed walnuts drifted lazily throughout the air. Peering through the foggy storefront window was Lily Evans, bright faced and propped upon her toes. Beside her, Severus Snape groom his fingernails patiently.

Bypassing the trivialities of reunion, the red head instantly unleashed her rampant curiosity. "Who was that?"

"Professor Helena Lovecraft." Remus explained unable to hold in his gossip. "She's the new Defense teacher!"

Severus, whosegreasy black hair contrasted with his pale skin, peered around a steeple of shimmering lollipops to judge the departing woman. "She's young. What could she possibly offer?"

_I am sure she knows plenty more than you do. _Taylor felt compelled to point out, but chewed on her tongue instead. For much of their first year, Severus had abandoned his childhood friend Lily for his Slytherin housemates. Despite the absence, Lily still considered him a close friend. As much as Taylor tried, Severus usually refused to be affable.

Lily, Severus's polar opposite, beamed at the prospects of a new professor. "Well, anyone has to be nicer than Greer. What else do you know?"

"She's American. Her accent was obvious." Remus explained, though the professor was becoming an afterthought, replaced by the desire to sample the Chocolate Frogs and Floating Gobs of Fairy Floss.

"Brilliant. A young American woman. They're a brash and impractical bunch— what do Americans know about advanced defense anyways?" Severus snapped.

Taylor's upper lip twitched in annoyance. "Plenty, I'd gather, considering the Americans haven't been a British colony since 1783." Historical ignorance and bigotry, above all else, irritated the young Slytherin girl. In an effort to redirect her attention, Remus nudged his sister in the ribs playfully. With Remus's help, the candied wonderland coaxed Taylor away from a tempting argument with a narrow minded opponent.

"Nevertheless, I still think it will be great to have a foreign teacher. Refreshing even. She must have something special to offer, if Hogwarts brought her this far." Lily smiled encouragingly at Severus, who remained unconvinced.

"They are desperately trying to fill a cursed position." The Slytherin boy muttered under his breath.

"Poppycock." Lily dismissed her guest's negativity with a wave of the hand. "A single tragic affair doesn't elicit the makings of a curse. There will be plenty of time to evaluate our new professor during the year, but for now let's enjoy these last few days of summer." She grabbed Severus's arm and led him toward a line of Sacchariferous Whirling Pinwheels.

Rain gently drummed against the windowsill, relentless in its attempt to join the merriment.


	3. Chapter 3: The Safety Advisory Warning

Chapter Three

Hundreds of trainspotters and anoraks flocked to Kings Cross Station in London to personally witness the Golden Arrow's final journey to the coast. A decline in demand for rail travel between London and Paris forced the luxury Pullman service to reconsider its financial options. By the end of September, the Golden Arrow would become obsolete in favor of faster transportation. The luxury boat train, scheduled to depart for Dover, submitted gracefully to the numerous photographs taken by the metrophiles and ferroequinologists hovering about Platform 10.

Nearby, however, concealed from the eager crowd of nonmagical railfans, waited an even more unusual locomotive. The Hogwarts Express: A scarlet steam engine readied to depart for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. White smoke billowed above the heads of a lively crowd. Parents embraced their children and ushered them toward the boarding queues. Caged owls hooted at the unattended cats that ventured too close, inaudible complaints muted by the cacophony of farewells and impulsive shouting.

Taylor pushed her luggage cart down the platform followed closely by Remus and his parents. Once situated securely in line, their guardians wished them an enjoyable, albeit safe, academic term before returning to their townhouse.

"Isn't this great?" Taylor smiled and placed a hand on her brother's shoulder. "We actually get to start off the year on talking terms."

"That can easily be changed." Remus squinted at her intrusive hand, but laughed when she hurriedly removed it. "Blimey, Taylor, it was a joke. Did I look _that _convincing?"

"Yeah, you should consider—"

The witty reply retreated into her larynx, replaced by a yelp, as she was unexpectedly lifted off the ground by her waist. A pair of hands carefully brought Taylor down several centimeters from her original position. Provoked, the Slytherin rounded on the assailant fists raised, though rationalized the incident when she recognized the obnoxious, empty-headed boy beside her.

"Salazar! Remus! Fancy that, running into you two here." Sirius Black grinned.

"Truly miraculous." Taylor scoffed, although privately she was entertained by his boisterous appearance.

Remus nodded in agreement with his sister. "The only way this could possibly be more unusual, is if James or Peter appeared."

"Present!" As if on cue, James Potter rushed forward scraping his trunk along the ground. "Pete's at the end of the line though."

"Oi!" A disgruntled youth shouted at James from three groups back. "No line jumping! Get to the back of the queue!"

"Shut up, you!" James hollered back unperturbed. Without another glance, he returned to the conversation which involved him. "Will we all be sitting together?"

"Of course." Both Sirius and Remus responded synchronously. _Was James including me in that? I suppose it doesn't matter. I already have claim to a compartment with Lily… Wherever she might be._ Taylor chose not to respond to the open-ended question.

A sprint vaulted Sirius passed the first three steps of the Hogwarts Express car. He held out an inviting hand to help Taylor onto the train. "Need a boost?"

Taylor rolled her eyes at him and pressed passed. _Since when do you play the role of the gentleman? I won't be fooled for a second by that trick._

In defense, Sirius threw his palms into the air. "My mistake."

"Aren't you going to offer me a hand up?" James snorted mockingly.

For a moment, Sirius stared at him calculatedly. He reached out kindly to pull his friend up the narrow stairs. Delighted by the ease of boarding, James eagerly reached up, luggage heisted high, only to stumble backward when Sirius swiftly pulled the helping hand away at the last minute. The fleeing Gryffindor only caught the prelude to a torrent of vengeful curses, leaving Remus to comfort the fallen comrade.

Taking time to peer into each compartment, Taylor squeezed through the congested side corridor. Progress became a herculean feat. A dingy longhaired calico cat tripped her twice, sending her several paces backwards. Luggage avalanched from overloaded alcoves above, which forced the flow of students into a stationary bottleneck. After countless trials, she finally discovered Lily sitting by herself, typical indication of Severus's abandonment.

"Thanks for saving me a seat. Just about everywhere is packed." Taylor started to shove and heave her trunk into the storage cubicle, but before she could raise it above her head, Sirius slammed open the door causing her to drop the luggage.

"Blast it!"

James and Remus filed in after Sirius, who neglected to offer any further assistance to the independent Slytherin girl.

"Your company is becoming quite the biannual joy." Lily sniped sarcastically at the three unwelcomed boys.

Ruffled and slightly bruised, James sat down across from Lily and crossed his legs. "Evans, you can't expect to go around monopolizing empty cabins."

The rouge on Lily's pale face intensified with frustration. Although the boys were magnets for trouble, their bravery and humor was often good natured. That, above all else, irritated the red-haired girl the most. After Remus helped to tuck away her possessions, Taylor took the open seat beside Lily.

"Sorry. I didn't think they'd follow once I boarded the train." The young Slytherin whispered apologetically. Gaze locked squarely on James, Lily rolled the recreational muggle post in her hands distractedly.

"Don't be sorry, dear. It's not your fault. They're practically brainless lemmings."

Sirius took the seat next to James. "Lucky for us, there are no cliffs around."

Remus was the only person to offer a sympathy chuckle, before taking the available space beside his sister. As the train began to pull out of the station, a light rap on the door signaled the entrance of a scrawny, anxious Peter Pettigrew.

"Boy, am I lucky to find you guys. I thought I'd have to stand the whole way." The boy's pale blue eyes fixated on the seat beside Sirius. Without much choice, Peter hurriedly claimed the final seat across from Remus. Sirius edged away slightly when their feet touched accidently.

"It's good to have you back mate." James yawned, resting his head against the vibrating glass window.

Ignoring the boys became simple enough, when Lily offered to share the newspaper with Taylor. Together they scribbled through crosswords and unscrambled expressions. _ "The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind." Four letters across. _ In quiet contemplation, Taylor ran her hand along the velvet plush seat, thoughts sifting like sands through the sieve of her mind_. _Hours into their journey had yielded no certain answer, and they young girl had barely noticed the darkened landscape speeding passed. _Love? An uncontrollable and constant affection for another person. A friend, a family member, a stranger even. Hate? The passionate, encompassing, dislike for someone. Gaius Valerius Catullus, the Roman poet, would characterize those emotions as the oldest— _

An unexpected jerk lurched the six students violently forward. Their bodies and limbs collided, resulting in several awkward entanglements. Lily side-saddled James, who cradled the back of his head in pain. Without time to brace herself, Taylor careened toward Sirius: her chin to his eye socket. Unfortunately for Peter, Remus turbulently nosedived into the boy's unprotected groin.

"Bloody hell." Sirius groaned. He lifted a delicate hand to his bruising left eye. "What the fuck was that about?"

Abhorred and slightly nauseated, Remus scrambled back into his seat. "The train stopped."

"Without warning? Is that normal?" Taylor jumped off Sirius quickly, though paused to inspect his condition. "Are you alright?"

"Peachy." Sirius snorted. "You're not very good at impromptu landings." _You could have ended up with a wand through your chest. Consider yourself lucky._

The young Slytherin pinched her lips together tightly and chewed on the sarcastic responses tickling her tongue. Dazed, Lily scooted off James's lap and to the compartment floor. Concerned for her friend, Taylor kneeled down and brushed stray hair away from Lily's glistening green eyes.

Crisp silhouettes of the towering pine outside shadowed the train from the early rays of the quarter moon. The compartment lights fizzled into the darkness of night. Father Time slipped onto the locomotive, slowing down seconds to an insufferable pace. Inability lulled the students into a uniform silence. After nearly an hour, a static crackle reverberated through the air and an unfamiliar voice echoed through the compartments.

"This is an important Safety Advisory Warning. An elite unit of highly-trained, specialist officers from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement are currently investigating the premises. Remain in your designated compartments until the search is complete." The static crackle heightened in volume, then vanished.

James peered out the window at the forest. "This is much more exciting than I originally imagined. Ministry officials are searching the express!"

The rest of the group was less enthusiastic. Lily and Taylor exchanged worried glances, while Remus fiddled anxiously through his pockets for his wand. Peter, especially, shifted nervously from one position to another.

"It's a hoax." Sirius tried to wave the apprehension in the air away. "Someone probably called in a rumor. Why would anyone target a train full of kids when there are governments to collapse?"

"As children, we are essentially defenseless. Among us are the future generations of law enforcers and government to get in their way. Terrorizing kids is an ingenious tactical move on. " Remus posed cynically.

Sirius folded his arms. "Doubt it. This is nothing serious."

Whispers dimmed back into an uncomfortable silence, until a shout from within echoed across the aluminum interior of the train cars. A thundering stampede of officers filed passed the compartment. The door nearly jumped the track as it slid open. An aggravating luminescence momentarily blinded their vision.

Between blurs and shadows, the figure of a young man emerged. Disheveled blond hair dusted his shoulders. Comparatively, the goatee on his face was stylishly trimmed and neatly groomed.

Instantly, Taylor recognized the gentleman as Virgil Park; a fiery fledging and confidant of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Virgil was responsible for retrieving Fabergé's egg from Poland and, subsequently, hiding it from those who would use it to awaken a bloodthirsty beast with a taste for nonmagical flesh. Despite Taylor's contribution in finding the egg, Virgil refused to trust her intentions. In a private confrontation, he had even claimed that she was working for the rising Dark Lord. His accusations, however absurd, immensely irritated Taylor. _God, let this be brief. Don't let him recognize me._

Virgil took a step inside and carefully surveyed the compartment. His wild brown eyes, which could have belonged to a bird of prey, scouted for inconsistencies. Upon noticing Taylor, the lines on his already stern face deepened.

_Bright side. At least I have a memorable face. _Her fingers flinched for the wand at her side, as Virgil raised his wand toward the ceiling.

"_Deprendo_."

A radiating violet aurora fanned out from his wand into several directions. Even after he dropped his instrument, the cabin remained illuminated with a soft lavender glow. Satisfied with the search, Virgil took a step back toward the hall and placed his hand on the door.

"Keep this compartment locked until further instruction." The door slid closed and with a harsh click the door locked. The students exchanged puzzled shoulder shrugs and cautious glances toward the door. _What or who were they looking for? _Another static crackle in the air signaled a final announcement.

"This concludes the Safety Advisory Warning. The investigation of the premises is now complete. Your journey will resume momentarily." The transmission ended and the train jerked back into a sudden motion. The lights flickered on, scorching the travelers' relaxed pupils.

* * *

Despite the delay on the tracks, the Hogwarts Express arrived at Hogsmeade station upon schedule. There was an immense scramble to get outside into the fresh, evening air. The temperature had plummeted to artic degrees and the wind howled disconcertingly between the adjacent wooden platform structures. Terrified first years were shepherded away and out of sight from the mob of older students, in order to complete the traditional journey across the lake.

With reserved acceptance, Lily and Taylor followed the confident group of Gryffindor boys beyond the Hogsmeade station. Their feet slushed onto an unpaved road, caking the soles of their shoes with moist clay. Hundreds of stagecoaches conveniently awaited to deliver the remaining passengers. As Taylor approached a nearby carriage, a twinge of apprehension caused her to pause.

"Come on Taylor, what are you waiting for?" Remus goaded merrily. Clouded, motionless orbs stared blankly from reptilian, horse skulls. Each coach was pulled by a skeletal steed with reptilian wide, leathery bat wings.

Abnormally, even Sirius stood with hesitant precaution, while the others boarded the small buggy. The two confounded students shared a look of dismay with one another, but pressed when coaxed by their companions. They clambered inside and pulled the thin, door shut. Settled in comfortably, the stagecoach systematically joined the procession bound for the castle grounds. As the carriage picked up speed on the long sloping drive, the excitement of beginning the next phase of magical study revisited Taylor. Content in his seat, Sirius remained far from the window nursing his tender eye socket, while James and Peter watched the approaching turrets and towers grow taller. At last, the carriage swayed to a halt and the travelling party exited the coach to complete their pilgrimage.

The group melded into the swarming crowd and continued up the marbled steps, through the large oak doors, and into the cavernous Entrance Hall. From the Entrance Hall, they roamed freely into the expansive Great Hall, where the enchanted ceiling wondrously matched the celestial sky outside. A sea of pointed black hats filled into the empty spaces; each of the four long house tables were lined with excited students, their faces glimmering under the phosphorescence of a thousand floating candles.

From across the bustling hall, Taylor spotted her elusive friend, Fionn Wilkes, settled at the end of the Slytherin table. The copper haired boy sat alone, watching the waves of eager students ebb and flow around him. Apathy darkened his face, a mundane world reflected in grey blue eyes. Noticeably, the other emerald and silver clad pupils distanced themselves from his company. _Though, I wonder if it was his choice or theirs. _Tapping a farewell upon Lily's shoulder, Taylor broke away from the herd. Fionn's mood lightened marginally, when he noticed his friend's brisk approach. In a chivalrous fashion, he rose from his seat to welcome her arrival.

"It's good to see you." Fionn offered the bench to her. Although close, their friendship never warranted unnecessary touch, hugs and affection were simply taboo.

"Likewise." Taylor settled into her seat, allowing Fionn to return to his original position. After a few minutes of shared silence, she continued to pursue conversation. "Did you have a good summer?"

The Slytherin boy stared up at the staff table, his hands folded in uncomfortable consideration. He did not answer. Taylor had forgotten the conversational difficulties they often encountered last year; an obstacle which seeded erroneous doubts regarding Fionn's intentions. Professor Flitwick, who was a tiny little wizard with a shock of white hair, carried a three-legged stool to the front of the room in preparation for the sorting. Allowing her first attempt to dissolve in the air, Taylor tried again.

"So any news about what happened on the train?"

Whether or not he realized his previous detachment or simply found the topic genuinely interesting was unclear, but Fionn turned back toward Taylor to address her query.

"Surely you heard the rumors?" Taylor shook her head, prompting the boy to continue. "Supposedly, the Ministry received an anonymous tip claiming a group of radicals were going to attack the Hogwarts Express. The train was strictly guarded at the platform, but from what I understand, the Aurors detected two unidentified wizards on the train. That was the reason for the stop and search. How a pair of unknown wizards boarded an impervious moving train in the first place is beyond anyone's best guess."

"And the pair escaped before they could be taken into custody." A bronzy haired third year interrupted.

Balthasar Mulciber sat across from both Fionn and Taylor, his hazel eyes locked on the Slytherin girl. Ophidian by nature, Mulciber exuded a sadistic, often misogynistic, sense of humor. Unlike many of his cohorts, he knew nothing of conscience or remorse. Unnerved by the company Taylor clenched her fists beneath the table.

"Indeed. Those are the rumors, as I have heard them." Fionn straightened his posture and looked back toward the congregation of professors at the front of the hall.

Mulciber adjusted his tie. "Pleasure to see you again, Taylor. Are you still a mud wallower?"

Glowing hot coals of anger smoldered in Taylor's abdomen. Every breath, oxygenated the burning rage inside. Despite the urge, she chewed on her tongue to remain silent. Fionn's foot nudged Taylor's, though when she looked to him for an answer, he remained distracted with his distant observations. After a moment of consideration, she deemed it an accident.

"There you are!" A dark strawberry-blonde hurriedly claimed the seat at Mulciber's left. "What a mess of foot traffic. I nearly lost you in the crowds."

Creusa Greengrass, one of Taylor's bunkmates, was never far from Mulciber's beckoned call. Her pacific blue eyes glanced over Fionn and Taylor momentarily, before casting full attention back toward the boy beside her. Without permission, she ran her index finger down his pale cheek. Annoyed by the affection, Mulciber swatted away the playful touch. Taylor's stomach churned with disgust. _I can't imagine why anyone would want to touch him._

"You know, I imagine the train ride would have been more exciting if a few mudbloods had dropped dead. Maybe we would have gotten a few more days of vacation." Mulciber commented with a crooked smile. Even Fionn, shocked to overhear the cold-blooded comment, shifted uncomfortably back into the tension.

"Now, Mulciber, is it necessary to—" Fionn began, but Taylor slammed her hands on the table.

Cheeks flushed scarlet at the boy's vicious goading, she growled warningly. "Keep your sick opinions to yourself."

"I will take that as a yes then? You're still a scum sucking pikey." Mulciber leaned in by placing his elbows on the table. Taylor reached into her robes and clutched her wand steadily. _I will blast you to pieces if I have to. _Before she could pull out her weapon, Fionn stood up and put a cautionary hand on her shoulder.

"You need to sit somewhere else, Mulciber." Fionn stated flatly. The third year Slytherin, however, ignored the command. As he opened his mouth, Creusa stood up next to him and tugged on his shoulder.

"Don't be a kill joy Balthasar. We've only just arrived. Challenge Taylor's morality another night, would you?" Unyieldingly, Mulciber and Taylor held eye contact. _One more word. Give me a reason to have detention on the first day._

Mulciber tapped the table in thought, but suddenly jumped to his feet. "I'll see you around Wilkes. Enjoy the feast, Taylor." Without another word, he walked away with an arm around Creusa's shoulders. Body shaking with rage, the Slytherin girl took her hand from off her wand. The confrontation was over, allowing Fionn to sigh heavily and return to the comforts of his seat. Taylor held her head, pinched the bridge of her nose, and closed her eyes.

"I hate him." She muttered under her breath.

"He's a nut, looking for a fight with anything that goes against his upbringing. That being said, promise you will not instigate any trouble. Mulciber is not a fair fighter when it comes to duels."

Taylor silently reveled in the idea of Remus blasting Mulciber in the Hogwarts Express, though with a nod she promised not to enact any needless violence.

"Thanks." Taylor appreciated her friend's abrupt support when she needed it.

For the first time, since their reunion, Fionn cracked a smile. "You have helped me against undesirables. I mean, we are friends after all."

The Great Hall was heralded into silence, as the first years were ushered in and sorted into the four Houses: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. The Sorting Hat, whom Taylor held a slight grudge toward, recited a rhythmic new poem for the young attendees. She did, however, applaud energetically for the new Slytherin arrivals. With the ceremony finally finished, Taylor's stomach growled with famished foretaste. Before the feast could begin, Professor Dumbledore, though very old, approached the podium with great energy.

"Welcome, new and returning students, to another year at Hogwarts! There are a few important things to announce before we partake in our most excellent feast." Dumbledore created a steeple his hands. All in attendance turned their attention to the headmaster. "As you are well aware, after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school will be hosting a series of visits from Aurors. They have been invited here on Ministry of Magic business. No reason for worry—but in light of recent wizarding events we are taking precautionary measures. In times like these, I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to ensure order and cooperation during these routine visits."

An uncertain applause followed Dumbledore's brief silence. Ministry involvement seemed unnecessary, counterproductive even. Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry was a secure fortress, commanded by some of the world's wisest practitioners. _So much extra security. Who or what are they preparing for? _Taylor scanned the Great Hall for signs of Virgil or other intimidating figures sent by the Ministry. Besides the discernible first years, no one seemed out of place amidst the start-of-term celebration.

"On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome new additions to our staff. As of last year, Apollyon Pringle honorably resigned from his post to search for the Isle of Mam. Best of luck to our former caretaker! He will be succeeded by Mr. Argus Filch."

The headmaster gestured toward the very end of the staff table. A gangly, pale eyed man in an oversized tweed jacket tapped his foot excitedly on the flagstone floor. Oily hair dangled in his face as he attempted to stand for the recognition. A deviant thread from his coat, however, roughly snagged upon an inconveniently protruding nail head underneath the table. As he lifted his thin frame up against gravity, the seams of his left sleeve disintegrated entirely. For a moment, he stared blankly at his naked arm. Several students cackled at the embarrassment, while others groaned in sympathy. Filch grimaced, snatched the fabric from the floor and returned to the seated position.

_Poor guy._ Dumbledore waved his hand to quell the minor uproar.

"We also have added another professor to our ranks this year. After the most grievous situation with Professor Greer, Professor Lovecraft from the Salem Witches Institute has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Dressed in ornate Dogwood Rose pink robes, Helena Lovecraft nodded gently, honored by the brief recognition. Unlike with Argus Filch, the students welcomed the elegant professor with a parade of cheers and applause, until the headmaster quieted them with a raise of his hand.

"Now that we have discussed everything of importance. Let the feast begin!"

The golden plates and goblets suddenly filled with delectable treats and refreshments. Ravenous students tore into heaping piles of brisket, mashed potatoes, and garden fresh salads. The hall echoed with zealous chatter and the clatter of silverware. When the final morsels of pumpkin strudel had been consumed, the headmaster gave the official dismissal from the Great Hall. Taylor and Fionn joined the descending stream of Slytherins, through several dark labyrinthine halls, down toward the hidden entrance of the Slytherin Dungeon.

They waited patiently in front of a bare stone wall for the prefect to deliver the password. Painted snakes, curled lazily on withering branches, stared at them from the adjacent fortifications. Ouroboroi deprived of sustenance, eternally ate themselves upon elaborately decorated tapestries. Taylor, upon her first visit, had originally felt uncomfortable under the reptilian gaze; now the portraits held poetic meaning. Once the prefect arrived, he cleared his throat and moved to the front of the congregation.

"The password is _Sanitas Dimidia_. Guard it carefully and remember it."

_Broken Sanity. These passwords are always so twisted. _Bricks in the wall parted to reveal a plush common room area.

As the prefect introduced himself and stated the mandatory House rules, Taylor and Fionn stepped through the hole, and into the cold familiar marbled room. The lounge was soaked in a subterranean emerald light and adorned with petite silver rimmed windows. Water from the Black Lake lapped against the apertures, signifying their depth. A small inviting fire roared beneath the portrait of the austere House founder, Salazar Slytherin. Additional paintings decorated the wall; scenes with nesting dragons, harsh prefects from the past, and shadowy otherworldly landscapes.

Introductory speech finished, the prefect allowed the girls and boys to divide toward their separate staircases. Waves of exhaustion rippled across Taylor's thin frame. _A bed with warm quilts sounds perfect. It feels great to be back. _Stifling a yawn, she quietly bid Fionn a goodnight and descended the spiral stone steps. Her path became automated, directionally bound for her designated four poster bed. Just before Creusa entered the dormitory, Taylor drew the shimmering green hangings closed and buried herself deeply into the silky folds.


End file.
